


Soothe Me to Sleep

by Akindheartedfeline



Series: LetsWriteSherlock Challenge 15 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sherlock is also really horny, Sherlock is sick and John takes care of him, Sickfic, its just all really cute, sick!fic, sorry boutcha, theres no smut though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akindheartedfeline/pseuds/Akindheartedfeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You’re ill babe, you need rest, not a good fuck.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>or the one where Sherlock is sick and John takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soothe Me to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the LetsWriteSherlock Challenge 15 where you do themes from bingo cards~ this is 1 of hopefully 5 so we'll see! Hope you guys like it.xx

Sherlock feels it coming on, but because he’s too prideful to admit that he doesn’t actually have something in his throat or that he’s not just cold and because he’s stubborn as fuck he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t say anything when Mrs. Hudson offers him some cold meds with his tea and he doesn’t say anything when John shoots him increasingly concerned looks throughout the week as Sherlock’s sniffles slowly turn into something much worse. It’s just--- he _really ___hates being sick. He hates how fuzzy his head gets and he hates how he can’t focus on his work for the life of him. Really, it’s like being drunk only the headache comes sooner than later and you can’t control it and if you end up throwing up it’s really not even worth it--- so yea. Not fun. The opposite of fun.

The only part he finds somewhat enjoyable (and he’ll never admit it to anyone’s face) is when John goes into his full mother hen mode. He becomes all light kisses on his neck because he can’t kiss his mouth and he pets Sherlock’s hair until he falls asleep and retells stories of cases they’ve had together and Sherlock never feels more soothed than when John is reminding him of the murders and bandits and clues, of the first time he pulled John into a kiss on a foreign stairwell before promising he’d come back just like always. And how when he did and they got back to the flat they fucked for what felt like two days straight. They laugh together and lay side by side for hours and it’s like they just get to pause on all the chaos and look back on it all. He loves those stories, lives for those stories. He doesn’t mind trading a clear head if the fog reminds him of John, if all he can hear is John’s voice. 

So while at the moment Sherlock is feeling pretty shit he can’t help but smile as John backs up into the bedroom, a tray with what he presumes is their lunch in his hands. The lighter haired man smiles back when he sees his partner is up. 

“Figured you’d still be asleep, love. You feeling any better?” Laying the tray carefully on the bedside table, he presses a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek and takes his place beside him on the bed. 

In all honesty, Sherlock probably feels worse than when John had left him to rest. He’s burning up, his nose all stuffed up and his throat raw and scratchy. His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and when he goes to sit up he is taken with such a dizziness it takes all the energy he has left (which really isn’t much anyways) to not just keel over and die right there. 

“Not really,” he tries for an air of nonchalance but it ends up coming out as more of a whine and Sherlock can’t even go on to say anything else before John’s got a thermometer in his mouth, a hand on his forehead, and a frown on his face. 

“You’re burning up.” Sherlock groans at the coo, garbling around the instrument, “I’m fine!” 

John’s frown deepens. “You’re obviously not! You’re like a bloody fireball and with how much you’re sweating it’s a surprise you haven’t drowned yet.” 

Sherlock gives him a dopy smile. “So you admit I’m hot then?” 

John snorted. “Yea, the snot is a real turn on.” 

Sherlock pouts at that but he really can’t get that offended when he has the love of his life playing with his hair and scratching at his scalp and he totally had something to say and it would have witty and great but he can’t think straight when he’s got John pressed to his side and he’s burning up yet he just wants to pull him closer, pull his stupid jumper off and feels John’s cool skin against his own. 

It doesn’t help that Sherlock is down to his pants sweating buckets and in a mental haze and here John is with the nerve to look so clean and fresh, smelling of bath soaps and lovely dreams and since when does his hair look so soft? He’s suddenly taken by the need to touch, John’s gaze on him a bit quizzical but so intensely fond that a groan tears through Sherlock’s throat as he reaches out for his boyfriend. 

John holds him back although Sherlock continues to tug at the other man’s shirt, smiling down at him in amusement. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” he laughs when Sherlock goes for the zipper of his jeans, swatting his hands away and lacing his fingers with Sherlock’s instead. 

“Want you,” Sherlock whines, “wanna suck you off. Want you to fuck me just—something, anything, just want you so bad. I’m so hot, John please.” 

John leans down and presses kisses to Sherlock’s neck. It’s light and careful and it’ll probably barely even leave a mark and Sherlock just wants him to actually _do ___something but he won’t and he’s almost relived when John pulls back to nose and Sherlock’s jaw, speaking quietly but with a grin so strong it’s audible.

“You’re ill babe, you need rest, not a good fuck.” 

“Why can’t I just have both?” 

John watched him for a few long moments, smile wide and loving. 

“Rest now. Maybe we can do something later after you’ve eaten and are feeling up for it.” 

“But I’m up for it now!” Sherlock argues, nuzzling into John’s neck and pulling him in by his hip. John doesn’t seem bothered or deterred though, simply rubbing at his back and laughing lightly. 

“John, c’mon,” Sherlock starts again but John quickly shushes him. 

“Just take a nap Sherlock. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He mumbles into Sherlock’s heated neck, the cool air of his breath sending shivers down his spine. It sounds almost like a promise. 

“And then we can fuck?” His voice is kind of ridiculous, almost too rough to understand and stuffed up and breathless with congestion. He pulls John’s hands just a tad tighter around his waist and scoots back against him as if they could get any closer. 

John laughs into his shoulder, presses a kiss to the pale skin there. 

“Whatever you want, love.” he rubs Sherlock’s stomach in soothing circles, flutters his eyelashes on the nape of his boyfriend’s neck until he’s stopped fidgeting and has settled into a state between sleep and consciousness. 

“M’only gonna sleep for a while, yeah? And then we can fuck and then I can go back to sleep.” Sherlock’s speech is slow, dragging and rough with drowsiness but still determined just like always. 

John chuckles behind him. “Got it all figured out don’t you?” 

Sherlock nods, looking over his shoulder at John and blinking owlishly before breaking out into a sated grin. 

“Course, just like always.” 

John presses a kiss to his cheek and ruffles his hair and if he didn’t know any better he would mistake the sigh of his words for exasperation instead of fondness. “Just go to sleep Sherlock.” 

“Love you.” Sherlock mumbles. He can feel sleep ready to take him, his head heavy and eyes lidded. 

He falls asleep to the, “Love you back.” John whispers into his skin. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please feel free to leave comments, questions, rants, anything you have to say, I love hearing from readers!xx


End file.
